A Way to be Good Again
by Asukai Haruka
Summary: Riven has lost hope of restoring Noxus to its former glory, wasting away in despair, when Lux is forced upon her as a companion. Just then, Riven discovers a dark secret behind the wars of Runeterra, and should she unravel it, redemption and forgiveness awaits on the other side. There is a way to be good again, but will she succeed? (Lux x Riven with a side of Ashe x Katarina)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Greetings, people of the world, and welcome to my humble little story. This is a** _ **Lux x Riven lesbian**_ **fic, in case you are not aware, and if you dislike either, you are welcome to hit the "back" button. If you do end up liking this story and joining me on this journey, I hope we will both enjoy ourselves and learn something from this.**

 **I have taken some artistic liberties with the lores, so I've got Riven pretty much everywhere during the Ionian War hurting pretty much every Ionian champion. Thank you for your understanding. Also, I will be using the old lore, since Rito is taking forever to update a new one and I lack the patience to wait for it.**

 **Haruka**

 **P.S The title of this book is a quote from** _ **The Kite Runner**_ **by Khaled Hosseini, when Rahim Khan calls Amir and tells him** _ **'Come. There is a way to be good again,'**_ **leading him to return to Pakistan and then Afghanistan to rescue Sohrab. It started Amir's journey of redemption, and it shall start Riven's.**

 _ **Casualty – Mental Ward**_

 _ **Something has gone wrong inside my head.  
The sappers have left mines and wire behind;  
I hold long conversations with the dead.**_

 _ **I do not always know what has been said;  
The rhythms, not the words, stay in my mind;  
Something has gone wrong inside my head.**_

 _ **Not just the sky but grass and trees are red,  
The flares and tracers – or I'm color-blind;  
I hold long conversations with the dead.**_

 _ **Their presence comforts and sustains like bread;  
When they don't come it's hard to be resigned;  
Something has gone wrong inside my head.**_

 _ **They know about the snipers that I dread  
And how the world is booby-trapped and mined;  
I hold long conversations with the dead;**_

 _ **As all eyes close, they gather round my bed  
And whisper consolation. When I find  
Something has gone wrong inside my head.  
I hold long conversations with the dead.  
\- Vernon Scannell**_

 **Riven's POV**

 _Warmth fills my chest as I walk down the familiar streets of Noxus, heading down the paths I had walked as a child the days before my parents' deaths. The grocery store mother would always take me to, allowing me to "sneak" sweets into the basket by pretending to be unaware, the military barracks father lived at, where we went to visit him and pass him meals on occasion, the very barracks I ended up at after they gave their lives in battle, the park where the town's kids gathered to play soldiers, squabbling over who got to be the General of Noxus and who had to be the "smelly, ugly" Demacians… Ah, it has been years since I have been in my homeland, the city-state I would have given absolutely anything for…_

 _Unfamiliar faces flock by me in every direction, Noxians going about their daily lives, a number of them nodding in greeting with awe-struck looks on their faces, mumbling things about the "Noxian poster child", "symbol of Noxian greatness", the "personification of the Noxian spirit". I have not heard those words in years either… the sound of them makes my chest ache._

 _Around the corner, I spot a familiar uniform, charred and torn, that of the Noxian soldiers who served in the Ionian War. I stop in my tracks, ice creeping through my hollow chest, as the soldier turns to face me, his features horribly twisted, melted and burned, bits of skull showing through gaps in rotting flesh. Bile wells in my throat as I double over, dry heaving on the side of the road, but no one seems to notice. No one but the specter from my past._

" _Ah, Commander!" I recognize the specter's voice and the scraps of his features still discernible on his mutilated face. It cannot possibly be… "From the look you are wearing, I guess you still remember me, don't you?"_

" _E-Edmund…" I manage to croak, making him smile and nod positively, telling me how glad he is that I still remember him, as if I could ever forget. His screams rattle in many of my nightmares, his desperate, pleading gaze burns in my mind as I hollowly traverse the world of the living…_

" _I've got something to show you, Commander," he laughs maniacally, his voice rising in pitch as he continues, "Something really familiar to you and wonderful to me!" He sounds a little like Shaco, insane, deadly, empty._

 _He grins, cracked lips parting to reveal bone white teeth, the melted flesh of his cheek dropping off at the movement, gesturing at the sky with one skeletal hand. Before I can even look up, the disgusting and familiar stench of chemical bombs floods my senses, filling me with undiluted terror. Within seconds, the people on the street are screaming and crying, desperately clawing at their melting skin in a futile attempt to stop the pain. Many collapse to the ground, coughing up blood as the chemicals invade their lungs, shrieks of agony peppered with strange gurgles and choked gasps. Again, the chemicals do not touch me, instead consuming the bodies of all that surround me, turning them into pools of slime._

 _I dry heave violently, eyes watering, a whimper welling in my throat as the specter of my past comes to my side, looking up at the sky and laughing maniacally, "The moment those bombs rained upon us, Commander, Noxus doomed itself! Look at what its greed has brought!"_

 _Around me, buildings collapse, the inhuman cries of extreme agony rising to an unbearable crescendo, the smoking ruins of Noxus High Command the backdrop to this gruesome scene._

" _No… no…" I refuse to believe that, there has to be some way to save Noxus from itself, there has to be a way to return my beloved city-state to its glory days before the Ionian War…_

" _Noxus cannot be saved! You should know that more than anyone, Commander!" The soldier forces me to raise my head and take in the chaos that surrounds me, snarling, "You are haunted by the atrocities you have committed and the sights you have seen, and you are aware that they are the price you must pay for your sin." I cannot deny that, it is something I accepted during my years of self-imposed exile, the past haunting my every step as I aimlessly wandered my way through Valoran… "You know that, so why is it so hard for you to accept that Noxus, too, has a price it must pay?"_

 _Suddenly, the entire Fury Company materializes before my eyes, charred, rotting corpses with exposed bones and melted flesh, their hollow eyes glowing with needless hatred. Every single one of them is there, from the optimistic young Alexandros to the quiet old Andrew, emptied of the vibrancy that once made them who they were and filled instead with bitterness. Gesturing to the utter chaos unfolding around us, Edmund announces, "For its sins, Noxus will burn!"_

 _Immediately, the others take it up, echoing in a single voice, "Noxus will burn… Noxus will burn… Noxus will burn…" Endlessly, they chant the same phrase over and over again, as if delivering a prophecy set in stone, and I curl up into a ball in a futile attempt to block it all out._

" _Shut up… shut up…" Rocking back and forth, I fight the urge to wail, the fire in my chest spreading throughout my body as their chanting grows louder and louder, filling my entire world._

" _Noxus will burn…"_

"NO!"

Bolting upright, breaths coming in uneven pants, I look around the familiar, spartan walls of my room in the League and inhale deeply, tearing my eyes away from the Noxian crest staring proudly at me from the opposite wall. Sometimes, I feel the Summoners gave me a room in the Noxian wing just to torture me, for I have been labeled a traitor by my homeland for "abandoning Noxus in its time of need" and have been permanently exiled. So every single day, I am reminded of home, the home I can never return to, the home that burns every night in my dreams…

The only reason my spirit hangs on, shattered and wounded but _alive_ , is the hope that Noxus can someday be redeemed, saved from the terrible path it is heading down and set back on the road it had once taken, that of glory through real strength. But what if I am wrong and Noxus cannot be swayed from the route that may ultimately lead to its downfall? What if weakness and corruption will only continue to spread through my beloved homeland, rotting it to the core, driving it to a point where it is beyond redemption? As the days pass, bringing with them little change, I am steadily losing hope that Noxus can be saved, no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise.

Stumbling out of bed, I barely make it to the bathroom just as acid wells in the back of my throat, spilling out into the sink as memories of that terrible war fill my head, reminding me that I can never escape the past. The choking stench of melting flesh, the twisted, inhuman cries of enemies and allies alike, the frightened eyes of my men boring into me, trusting me to be able to alleviate their suffering… The screams of the helpless villagers as we cornered them and murdered every single one of them, the cries of heartbroken parents clinging on to the corpses of their children, the determination burning in the eyes of dying Ionians… How can I ever forget? How can I ever be forgiven for all I have done, for all I did not manage to do?

The mere thought of sleep keeps me up at night, shivering in terror, until black exhaustion leaves me no other choice but to enter that unforgiving, death-choked world. The constant bombardment of sickening memories, bloodstained and dark, have ruined my appetite completely, resulting in me having meals once every few days. My body, too, is being strained well beyond its limits; how much longer can I go on like this? Will I be able to see the sunlight tomorrow? Worst of all, why does an increasing part of me _not_ want to?

Staring at the pale-lipped, hollow-eyed, emaciated woman in the mirror, I wonder if I can keep this up for much longer. I look like something Karthus dragged to Death's door and beyond, a tortured being spending each moment of her existence in agony.

"Riven, the Exile, you have been Summoned." A blue light envelops my body as the spell takes effect, my armor instantly materializing over my too-thin form, my shattered blade appearing in my hand. A sudden feeling of lightness fills me, fading all-too-soon as I arrive at the fountain of the blue team on Summoner's Rift.

As my Summoner mechanically buys the usual starting items, a Long Sword, three Health Potions and a Warding Totem, I look around the fountain at my teammates for the game: Vi, the Piltover Enforcer, Lux, the Lady of Luminosity, and to my horror and dismay, Varus, the Arrow of Retribution and Soraka, the Starchild, both Ionian.

Ionian. Just like the blood that stains my hands. _Ionian._

Instantly, my knees feel weak and bitter bile wells in the back of my throat, the choking stench of blood and corpses, the stench of _war_ , clouding my senses. Why, why did it all have to end that way? When it started, it was merely refugees seeking a home; why did Noxus have to escalate matters, to start such a horrible war when the last had just ended?

To make things worse, the concerned Starchild walks up to me, attempting to place a hand on my shoulder as I flinch away, "Are you alright, Riven? You do not seem very well…"

"I-I am fine, Starchild," I choke out, relief coursing through my body as my Summoner activates _Broken Wings_ to take me to my lane, allowing me to escape from the purple-skinned female. Unlike most of the other champions, I refer to others by their titles to create some distance and formality between them and me, keeping them at arm's length and telling them to either stay there or back further away.

 _Your enemy might be… problematic,_ my Summoner warns me as Vi and I linger around the Gromp's spawn point, _We shall proceed passively until we have roughly gauged the other Summoner's skill level._

By my side, the Piltover Enforcer hops back and forth energetically, filled with anticipation for the game ahead. One would think that she would have grown bored of these fights after having had so many…

 _Minions have spawned!_

After giving the mutant frog a few whacks in the head, I proceed to my lane to begin the systematic, boring decapitation of minions. Boring as it may be, it is a good substitute for war; the deaths here do not matter and the innocent are never implicated.

 _Your lane opponent's apparently a counter to you, but I think it's more of a skill matchup, which seems to be in my favor. If all goes well, she will not be a problem after we get one kill._

A female counter to me… is it the Grand Duelist? Under the right hands, she is quite the menace, and in lower-ranked Summoner matches, she often sees a startling amount of blood on her rapier. Hopefully, this Summoner is skilled enough to not hopelessly roll over in submission beneath her…

Just then, my opponent emerges from the Fog of War, running one hand through ice blue hair as she approaches the wave at my feet. Though this is not her usual appearance, her identity is unmistakable, and my heart drops to the base of my stomach sickeningly.

It is Irelia, the Will of the Blades, in her Frostblade skin. She is Ionia's Commander of the Guard, a soldier who fought with all her might and nearly lost her life in that abominable war. One whose brother's blood, unknown to her, stains my trembling hands…

I collapse immediately, dry-heaving on the cool grass as my Summoner begins to panic, memories of the Fury Company's ambush on the little platoon filling my head. There were so few of them that we, one of Noxus' smallest Companies, outnumbered them two to one, they stood absolutely no chance. We were elites, trained from childhood to be smooth, efficient killers, while they were a bunch of messengers led by the son of a figurehead, the Master of the Hiten, Lito.

" _Noxians!" the terrified warning cry ripples uselessly through their small ranks as we descend upon them, swords drawn and ready to spill blood. Metal clashes against metal, the sound ringing through the trees as we mercilessly crush our enemies, ensuring that every single one of them hits the ground devoid of life._

 _It is a faster fight than most, the messengers are barely able to hold a blade, let alone challenge an elite Noxian Company. They are young as well, more children than anything else, able to run, to roll over and die, to cry, but not to fight._

 _As I cast a sweeping glance over the battlefield, I spot a single man who seems to be giving Peter and Reece a hard time, no small feat as the twins fight like a single mind encased within two bodies, making it lethal to look away from either for even a moment. Easily beheading the weak fool that charged me, I dash over his fallen body, the runic shield that forms around me enabling me to intercept the blow that would have cost Reece a limb. "Leave him to me. Join the others and ensure all their messages are destroyed."_

" _Yes Sir!" as the twins head out, the Ionian soldier makes a desperate attempt to lunge after them. I step in easily, parrying his slash and going for the shoulder._

 _The soldier reacts instantly, his blade shifting with the dangerous fluidity of the Hiten style, telling me that the Ionian before me is none other than the figurehead's son, Zelos. Behind him, a wounded young Ionian sees Zephyr approaching and intercepts with his own body; they may be weak, but every single one of them has the courage of a thousand lions._

" _Xanos!" Zelos turns, his face crumpling along with the boy's body, his sword lowering for the briefest of moments._

 _Seeing the opening, Zephyr joins in the fight from behind, landing a glancing blow, and Zelos gives up even more ground as he takes on a shelf of rock as both a shield and cage. Having beheaded his enemy, young Alexandros casts us a glance, wordlessly informing us of his intentions, and Zephyr makes a quick fake to the left to create an opening on the enemy's other side. Alexandros dashes in, his attack easily blocked, but my simultaneous blow to the shoulder sends the Ionian reeling, his left arm rendered useless._

 _A wave of powerful energy cleaves through Zelos before he can make a move, and he collapses in stunned silence in a pool of his own blood. As reality begins to catch up with him, Zelos' eyes fill with hopelessness, bitterness and hatred, blood frothing from his rapidly paling lips._

 _I will never forget the look on his face just before his life slipped from him. In a raspy, fading voice, he spat, "Close your eyes… and see… the children… whose futures you stole… the soldiers… whose lives you took… the families… whose homes you destroyed…" Coughing up blood, he choked out his final words, "Always be haunted by us, Noxian!"_

Indeed, I have been haunted by the face of every single Ionian whose life I had wrongfully stolen, be it man, woman or child… I can never forget them; will never forget them, for they will never forget me, the one who murdered them.

A gentle hand on my shoulder makes me look up, the concerned and gentle look on the Will of the Blades' face only serving to further ensnare me in guilt. If she knew, she would definitely not be looking at me with such kind eyes… Zelos was the only family she had left, he was hope for a struggling, dying Ionia, and I killed him…

Stumbling unsteadily away from her, I retreat to the base of my turret so she cannot follow, my Summoner's questions ringing in my pounding skull.

 _Riven, are you alright? Can you continue the match?_

The mere thought of spending another moment in the Will of the Blades' presence proves too much, acid burning the back of my throat as it spills onto the grass beneath my trembling hands. Vaguely, I hear my Summoner calling for the match to be stopped and medical officers be called, before I sink into a mercifully empty darkness.

 **[Later]**

Disoriented and dizzy, I force my weighted eyes open as I attempt to sit up, a deep male voice sounding instantly to my left, "The Head Summoner wishes to see you immediately, Exile. Please follow me."

Another, familiar, voice protests immediately, "She is not well enough to leave the hospital!" It is the Starchild, devoid of her usual crescent-moon topped staff, amber eyes filled with concern and determination.

"Considering what reduced her to this state, do you think the _Ionian Wing_ is an appropriate place for her to recover?"

Defeated, the Starchild sighs quietly and backs away, amber eyes filling with sympathy as she attempts to help me, the murderer of her people, up from the bed. Why is it that she shows me kindness when all I deserve is hatred?

My heart clenches painfully and I flinch violently away from her, nodding silently to the male Summoner once she has backed off to indicate that I am willing to meet the Head Summoner as he requested. Keeping my eyes on the ground to avoid seeing the Starchild or the crest of the country whose people I wronged, I escape the Ionian Wing as quickly as my weakened body will allow me.

I wonder, what does the Head Summoner want from me? Is he going to revoke my League membership due to my less than satisfactory performance…?

As we pass the Demacian Wing, the Summoner stops briefly and speaks softly to the Might of Demacia, who nods respectfully and spares me a conflicting gaze before he leaves: his dark eyes were a mixture of the deep-running hatred between Demacia and Noxus, sympathy and doubt. Does everyone regard me with pity now…? Do I look _that_ bad…?

"Greetings, Exile," the Head Summoner rises from his seat as soon as the door closes behind him, leaving the two of us alone, "Your recent performance has… worried us greatly." I guess I really am going to be kicked out… "They reflect badly on your mental state, and the Institute has decided that we will assign you a… confidante, so to speak. She will always be by your side and will help you get through these particularly… _trying_ times."

Just then, the door swings open without warning, and the Head Summoner turns to address the intruder, a certain blonde Demacian, "Greetings, Lady of Luminosity. I take that you are willing to help us?"

"Of course I am!" the blonde envelops me in a tackle-hug, nearly bowling me over, and I stare open-mouthed at her in surprise as the Head Summoner explains what is going on. Since she is perpetually optimistic and cheerful, the Lady of Luminosity has been chosen to be a "buddy" of mine, to bring some "light" back into my life, and hopefully "fix" whatever it is that is wrong with me. Should I ever need a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear to pour out my troubles to, she will be right there beside me, readily providing it.

"The Ionian War is in the past, it is pointless to live in it. Untangle yourself from the shadows and live your life to the fullest." As if I could ever do something like that. "I hope that the two of you will learn to get along, despite your… political differences."

"We'll be great friends, won't we, Riven?" the Lady of Luminosity asks cheerfully, looping one arm over my bony shoulder while grinning idiotically at the Head Summoner. "You have a heart, unlike the rest of your cold-blooded countrymen."

Flinching, I draw away from her as I respond stiffly, "Please keep your hands to yourself, Lady of Luminosity." Instead of getting discouraged, the blonde simply grins widely and swears that she will soon turn me into a stupidly optimistic, overly-touchy airhead (not those words exactly). The Head Summoner smiles and dismisses us with a warm chuckle, the overenthusiastic blonde dragging me to the dining hall immediately to start "fleshing me out".

"I'm sure you'll get better soon!" she says in a high-pitched, excited voice, drawing strange stares from all the other champions we pass by. Demacians and Noxians especially, save for the Sinister Blade who is too busy being besotted with the Frost Archer to care. "Some food, loads of sleep and plenty of TLC will see you right as rain in no time!"

TLC…?

Before I can further contemplate on the meaning of said abbreviation, the Nine Tailed Fox stops us as we are about to enter the dining hall, winking one perfect, almond-shaped amber eye at us while purring, "Lux, Riven, are you following in Katarina and Ashe's footsteps?"

Blushing a little, the Lady of Luminosity stutters that we are simply going to be friends, squeaking a goodbye as she tugs me away from the nine-tailed seductress as quickly as possible. Behind us, the Nine Tailed Fox simply chuckles in amusement, a knowing smile tugging at the edges of her lips.

Right now, I know only one thing: my life will never be the same again.

 **A/N: I hope this looks like a promising start to you. Don't hesitate to leave a review, or to follow if you want to receive information on when this story is updated! Please follow me on Tumblr, Megapieceoftrash, if you want to look out for extra story-related content!**

 **Haruka**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again, everyone! I will be posting some Extras related to this story on my Tumblr account, URL Megapieceoftrash, under the tags "#a way to be good again" and "#fanfic extras". You are welcome to head over there and check it out!**

 **While other fanfic writers take on more mature, realistic descriptions for League matches, I will describe them as games, because that is what they are. Blood spilled does not stain; wounds do not appear, because in the actual game they don't, because it is a game even here that holds little gravity with life, pain and death.**

 **Also, whoever can guess the match I used here will be given a clue to cracking the extra on Tumblr! (It's more solid than a virtual cookie, I guess?)**

 **Haruka**

 **Lux's POV**

Ignoring the weird looks being directed our way, I drag Riven to the 24/7, all-you-can-eat buffet table and hand a plate, which she does not even take. Instead, she stands like a statue, as if she were already dead and her body is but unfeeling stone carved in her likeness to honor her achievements.

The look in her eyes is painfully hollow, blank, filled with despair, and I long desperately to banish the shadows that cling to this girl's frame. I wonder, what made her suddenly break like that? Before, she was perfectly fine, forging onward for the sake of returning Noxus to its glory days (ugh). What made her crash and burn so badly, so pitifully? Nothing has happened to Noxus lately, at least, not to the other city states' knowledge…

Shoveling random stuff on the plate for her, I guide her to a table in a nice secluded corner where she can stare at nothingness in peace, and hopefully get some food into her. She's like a skeleton covered in a thin layer of sallow skin, her hair almost brittle to the touch, symptoms I have seen in the starving Ionian masses before aid and intervention arrived. Is this how she intends to atone for the atrocities she committed in that war, suffering the way their survivors had?

"Riven, are you looking forward to the tournament today?" I ask cheerfully, attempting to draw the white haired girl from her shell, "I doubt that I'll be seeing any action, though, especially with the recent changes to AP items."

She shrugs in response, staring at something in the distance that only she can see. Ghosts from her past, I assume, ghosts that I would someday like to be familiar with.

"Well, do you think you'll be seeing midlane again soon?" I ask conversationally, hoping to get a proper response or an opinion out of her. A couple of Summoners like pitting Riven against Yasuo, but the man is an _Ionian_ , which definitely will not go unnoticed by her. Also, rumors have gone around that she is most likely the one who caused this man's exile, the one who forced him to raise a hand against his own brother and suffer, unable to forgive himself…

She has committed so many sins, she has so much to mourn, it is no wonder she walks with her head lowered.

Riven shrugs again, lost in a world far from my knowledge, a world most likely created from the nightmares that plague her from the Ionian War. It was a particularly gruesome war, that one, more like a genocide than anything else. Entire villages were wiped out, people burned and slashed and bombed without mercy, condemned by the Noxian invaders as "weak" due to their peaceful natures, and the land was watered with their blood and tears. Thousands, millions of lives were lost in that conflict, many of them innocent and helpless. The Ionians would never forget, could never forget, the events that destroyed so many of their lives.

Merely hearing stories from that time makes me shudder, I wonder what it is like to be haunted by months, maybe even years' worth of memories from it…

Before I can shake off my thoughts and attempt to engage Riven once more, my ally and fellow countryman, Fiora Laurent, walks over with a strange look on her face, asking Riven if she could borrow me for a moment. Her tone is much colder and harsher than usual, but said white haired girl doesn't react in any way, staring out into space as Fiora draws me out of earshot. It is an unnecessary move, I doubt Riven would be able to hear you even if you shouted in her ear, she'd just shrug and remain shrouded in her personal hell.

"Luxanna, what are you doing?" Fiora hisses angrily, "The Exile is an enemy; you cannot forget the blood on her hands!" The way she spat out Riven's title, with that condemning and judgmental tone, makes my blood boil.

"We all have blood on our hands," I respond, the coldness in my voice quite unlike me, and Fiora is taken aback. She sputters, trying to come up with a reply, and I cut her off. "I don't care what you think of her, Fiora. I like her, and that's the end of it."

Shaking her head slightly, she grumbles to herself about the sudden influx in relationships that ignore boundaries, be they gender, species or city-state related, or sometimes a mixture of the three.

"Wha- Riven and I _are not_ in _that_ kind of relationship!" my cheeks flush red as I protest, trying to keep my voice from carrying to the other tables.

Smirking a little, Fiora replies, "Your burning cheeks aren't helping your case, Luxanna." She mumbles something else under her breath, and I realize that the mighty leader of the Laurent house might be feeling a little… left out due to the increasing number of inter-champion romantic relationships.

"You could always get a partner too, you know," I tease in return, watching as her cheeks flush the same color as the vibrant streak in her hair. Sputtering, she tells me that she has no need for a partner, man or woman or spirit or whatever, and is not the slightest bit envious of the budding romances around her.

Before I can poke at her wound a little more, a bunch of non-champion yordles burst through the dining hall, making a beeline for where Tristana, Teemo and Rumble are seated, carrying the Bandle City flag on their little shoulders and squealing in high-pitched voices. Though they seem displeased with something, I am sure no one here can take them very seriously; they're just too small and cute! Maybe they were forced to ride in the animal carriage on their journey here and want something done to the carriage driver or the company he drives for.

Fiora takes this chance to escape from my prodding, disappearing into the crowd, and I return my attention to the shell-shocked veteran who still hasn't touched a thing on her colorful plate. She does not seem to have noticed a single thing that has occurred around her, an oddity for an experienced soldier, and a cold lump of worry settles in the base of my stomach.

"Riven, you really should eat something," I coax, and when I get no response, decide to threaten, leaning close enough to brush my lips against her ear, "If you don't start eating, I'm going to spoon-feed you."

Coming to life a little, she picks up the fork and stabs half-heartedly at her food, pushing it around and occasionally bringing some of it to her mouth. Her eyes are still incredibly far away, her entire being seeming to have collapsed into itself, withdrawing impossibly deep into the recesses of her wounded soul. How can it be that I am within touching distance of Riven, yet it feels as if she is not even on Runeterra?

" _My hands are stained."_ _"Burdens of the past." "So much death." "What conflict awaits?" "To serve the greater good."_ From the words that she says, it is obvious that Riven's emotional state is not very stable. It seems that she thinks the world is but a bunch of wars waiting to happen, and has resigned herself to the fact that she will always be a weapon in the seething mass of bloodshed.

" _For those who were lost."_ I have always wanted to ask her about this; if the lost she speaks of are Noxian or Ionian, or a combination of the two. Maybe they are all who have lost their lives in battle, from beyond the Rune Wars to this very day.

" _A sword mirrors its owner."_ The darkest and saddest of all her favorite quotes, considering the sword in her hand is broken. Will I ever be able to fix her, to brighten her view of this world? How long will it take me to achieve that if it took so many years to shatter her, if it took something so gruesome to make her crumble?

A sudden clang pulls me back to reality, my eyes adjusting to the sight of a now violently trembling Riven, tears dripping from her darkened amber eyes. An endless stream of senseless apologies slips from her throat as she collapses on her knees, the little food she ate flooding out from her.

"Riven! Riven, what's wrong?" I rush to her side, immensely concerned, resting one hand on her trembling back. She shrinks away from me, curling up defensively as she rocks back and forth, eyes even more hollow than before as the apologies end and the stream of " _No_ "s begin.

"Riven, hey," I shake her gently, "Look at me! Riven! It's okay, you're safe here, the War is over. Everything will be alright now."

At last, Riven looks at me, _at_ me and not through me, her defeated amber eyes burning into my soul as she croaks hoarsely, "The War is not over… It is still going on…" Raising a thin, shaky hand to her chest, she taps the place where her heart is twice, continuing, "in here… now and forever…"

Her head drops, her body slackening in my grip, and she mumbles one last sentence before passing out completely.

" _Noxus will burn…"_

 **Ionian Wing**

Hooked up to various strange-looking devices, Riven looks more fragile than ever, nutrients flowing into her body through a clear tube, a yellowish sheen to her normally tan skin. Realizing that reminders of Ionia will not help her fragile mental state in any way, Soraka, Akali and I spent the last hour clearing every trace of said city state from the room, pulling off flags, changing furniture styles and even painting over the Ionian crest on the wall. It was hard work, but worth it if it means Riven's hospital stay will be more comfortable. Fortunately, the white haired girl remained unconscious throughout our work, safe in the arms of what I hope will be good dreams.

The main bulk of Ionians are a forgiving people; it is not in their way of life to hold on to hate. However, there is tension between them and Noxians, tension that I cannot sense from neither Soraka nor Akali as they work efficiently around the sleeping soldier. It is no surprise, I guess, considering that Soraka is a divine being who devotes herself to healing and saving, while Akali is a well-crafted, emotionally-empty puppet who serves as the hand of punishment in her Order. They hold no grudges, and even if they did, can easily shove those feelings out of the way.

Suddenly, Riven begins to fidget in the bed, features twisted into a pained frown. Perspiration beads down her pale forehead as her body begins to flail wildly, yelps and whimpers slipping from between clenched teeth as she struggles to escape from something that clearly terrifies her.

I wonder, is it Noxus she sees in her dreams, Noxus burning? Does she fear the retribution Noxus undoubtedly deserves?

She begins to thrash from side to side, the surprising force of her movements causing the bed to shake. She whines softly, her fists clenched so tightly they have turned white, tears streaming down her sallow cheeks.

"No… No…" she whimpers as she continues to struggle, attempting to escape a nightmare that the tendrils of drugs keep her firmly bound to. The tubes stretch and tangle, machines screaming in protest, and Soraka rushes over to reconnect them.

Helpless, I can only watch as she sobs, desperately begging the ghosts in her dreams to let her go, to stop, to stop, to stop… Unfortunately, there is no way to wake her up prematurely; she will have to sleep until Soraka's medicines have left her system.

When the Summoners told me she had problems, I didn't imagine that they would be so bad… After all, I have grown up firmly believing that Noxians have no heart, that they do not deserve respect, that they are nothing but monsters calling for bloodshed and violence, but this one, this _ex-_ Noxian, has more heart than the whole of Demacia put together. Her city-state condemns her from "abandoning" it in its time of need, her city-state has disappointed her by sinking into the darkness, yet she still loves it, she has never stopped loving it.

Oh Riven, Noxus can never hope to deserve you…

Akali taps gently on my shoulder, her dark eyes neutral as she says, "You have been summoned for a tournament. I have informed them that you are busy, but they refuse to accept it."

Looking back at the sleeping Riven, I respond, "I'd rather not leave her side right now."

Faint amusement and warmth shines in the ninja's eyes as she nods, "I will try to convince them to leave you alone." With that, she disappears into what seems like thin air, shrouded in twilight.

Hopefully, someone else will take my place in whatever position they wish me for in that game, I do not want to leave this room until Riven is awake. I do not want her to wake up alone in a strange room in the middle of the Ionian Wing, filled with people she has done wrong to; it will not help her already fragile mental state.

"Luxanna, I am very sorry, but the Summoner insists it has to be you," Akali pops back after a while, "I'll stay here with her if you'd like."

Aware that this is most likely the best I can get (some Summoners are insanely stubborn), I nod and rise with a sigh, asking Akali to ensure Riven doesn't leave the room until I return. Akali might not be too happy to be aiding a Noxian, however denounced she may be by her city-state, but she will carry out duties assigned to her with the iron-willed determination of the Kinkou ninja. It is the way her type of Ionian works - detached, unemotional, always working toward the greater good.

Who decides that greater good, I wonder, and where does Riven stand in that view, what color is she dyed?

Shaking the thought from my head, I exit the hospital, an intense blue light immediately enveloping me and cloaking me in the appropriate "skin" chosen by my Summoner – Steel Legion, one of my personal favorites. Summoning magic cannot be activated on anyone within the hospital, in case some fool tries to summon a wounded or ill champion right out of his or her or its hospital bed. It is the same for bathrooms; we are sometimes treated as decent human beings.

When the sense of disorientation fades, I find myself standing on the blue platform on Summoner's Rift, Fiora, Elise, Lucian and Shen by my side. I am not very sure how my skill set fits into this composition – am I to be the waveclear for a standard 1-3-1 or 4-1 splitpush, a common strategy when Fiora is involved in any high-level games, or am I to rush a Sheen-based item and be the other lone splitpusher?

Shrugging, I move to lane alongside Shen and Lucian, carefully looking out for any signs of an invade from the enemy team. Strategies are not something for the champions to worry about, since it is the Summoners who control our movements; all we need to do is obey and perform our best.

The game is pretty standard, the outer turrets in both lanes disappearing within five or ten minutes. I trade surprisingly easily with my enemy – LeBlanc – which is honestly not something I expect, and I manage not to die to her at all during the laning phase. My Summoner seems relatively skillful, keeping the lane pushed and forcing LeBlanc to stay in lane instead of roaming.

After my first successful skill combo, I realize myself why I am coming back – with the new keystone mastery, _Thunderlord's Decree_ , my combo with my auto and passive deal a larger chunk of damage than before. But honestly, it is impossible to make any plays with the new gameplay style, and for a long time, both teams spend time alternating between farming and pushing.

Despite the slow game, my team slowly but surely claws its way to an advantage, that quickly leads to a snowball of turret after turret, as well as a few kills beautifully secured by amazing taunt-Flashes from Shen's Summoner. Despite how unwilling I was to enter the match, adrenalin and happiness is humming through my veins – close games are the best, the harder they are, the more fun they seem.

"I think we might be going for five dragons," Fiora murmurs as we continue our slow dance in-and-out of the jungle.

Unfortunately, a disastrous move from Fiora's Summoner to dive an Inhibitor tower nearly costs us the game – if not for Lucian's Summoner's superior dueling ability and a well-timed _Final Spark_ call from my Summoner. (After a number of games, you do end up dissociating yourself from the things you do on the Fields, since you are fully aware exactly how puppet-like you are).

A teamfight around the dragon pit leads to an Ace and the fifth stack of the dragon buff, granting us the game as well as my first professional victory in a long time – probably two years or so? It's a pretty good feeling, to be able to emerge victorious on a big stage, and I cannot help but envelop the Summoner in a hug for a few moments before the desummoning spell is cast.

Racing down the halls with a skip in my step from the hard-fought victory, I approach the Ionian Wing in record time, my good mood plummeting when I hear crashing and yelping from the general direction of Riven's room. Concerned voices are addressing her by her name, begging her to calm down, telling her that she is safe, but she does not seem to register them.

"You do not have to fear, Riven, we do not mean to hurt you. Please, calm down, you are safe here," Soraka pleads as I crack open the door, careful not to hit anyone.

"Lux!" a relieved smile passes over Soraka's face when I enter the room, "Thank the stars you have returned."

Riven is curled up in the furthest corner of the room from Soraka and Akali; no, right now she is too bony to curl, her body made up of sharp angles and unhealthy shadows. Yellow bile splatters the porcelain tiles around her, and she trembles violently as they instruct me on how to reattach her drip, fully aware that the further they are from her, the better she might feel.

"We'll be just outside, if you need us," Soraka says kindly before the door swings shut behind them. Akali does not look particularly pleased to be included yet again, nurse skin or not, she is still a Kinkou assassin first and foremost, and I won't be too surprised if Riven's head was on her list once, not too long ago.

"Hey, Riven," I try for a conversational tone, as if I am not talking to a mentally unstable veteran who has just emptied stomach acid onto the floor of her hospital room, "Would you like to go back to bed?"

"Noxus," she croaks softly, raising her head to pin me with a devastating, hollow stare, "What has happened to Noxus?"

"Noxus is fine," I say consolingly as I support her back to the bed, easily finding the tube for her drip and reconnecting it to the opening in her left hand. All the while, I speak to her of Noxus' victories, though it roils my stomach to do so, "So as you can see, Noxus is doing very well, from city-state matters to Institute-related matters."

She relaxes, like a soothed child, "Really?"

I smile, running gentle fingers through her dry, brittle hair, "Yeah."

As she drops back to sleep, I resolve to find a way to drag a Noxian champion here to give Riven more information about her accursed city-state's progress; hopefully it will do her a lot of good. I should go to Ashe, everyone knows she is Katarina's weak spot; rumor has it that Katarina is basically Ashe's lovesick puppy and will do anything she asks. However, bringing that rumor up in Katarina's face when Ashe isn't around results in a knife, possibly four, to the stomach – Noxians are in the detention chambers so much some people have taken to calling it the Second Noxian Wing – and I am not particularly interested in becoming the Du Couteau assassin's targetboard.

How cute, the Sinister Blade has, _had_ , a heart to give, I never thought that possible. Maybe we Demacians were too quick to judge the Noxians; they seem capable of human feeling under the right circumstances, their cold, cruel exteriors stripped away to reveal childlike hearts.

 **No POV, Somewhere in the Ironspike Mountains**

 _In the darkness of the cave, a pair of masked men sit, an eerie green light bouncing off the stone walls and glowing in their dark eyes. The air within is stifling, weighted, a mixture of dread and anticipation causing the light to dance, as if it were a living flame._

" _Are you absolutely sure of this?"_

" _Of course, brother! No one would even imagine that we would take such a path."_

" _And do you have the loyalty of them all?"_

" _So you worry about the Exile."_

" _It is natural to."_

" _Fear not, she is too broken to interfere with our plans. A child who feels guilt in war can never hope to stop us."_

" _Very well. I pray my trust in you will never prove to be misplaced."_

" _I will not fail, brother. And my failure is not for you to punish."_

" _Arrogance, brother, is your bane."_

 _With that, the light withdrew, as if it had been sucked back by a greedy child's mouth, plunging the rocks into darkness once more. Nothing moves, nothing breathes, the cold wind shrieks by and no life stirs._

 _Over the jagged peaks an eagle soars, amber eyes burning. It screeches, sharp, jarring, swooping down upon its helpless prey – a snow-colored rabbit, wild-eyed and twitching as cruel talons sink into soft flesh. All it can do now is die._

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave a review behind if you have any thoughts or feedback at all! They really motivate me to continue the story!**

 **For now, the Tumblr extras will just be little coded clues that might help you figure out bits and pieces the plot for future chapters. In time, there will be short story chunks, so do look out for those!**

 **Haruka**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I dug out the Noxian/Ionian match which led to the freedom of the Southern Ionian lands of Galrin, Navori and Shon-Xan and the creation of the Ionian Boots of Lucidity, and wow… that was the most informal formal match I have ever watched. Still, it was interesting, and I liked how the shoutcasting was done as if they were part of the League of Legends world, instead of the way it is done now.**

 **Some people have managed to crack the code on Tumblr, and I'm pretty happy to see that my efforts were not completely in vain. There's a little more there now, but if you're too lazy to check it out, that's fine, I guess? Stuff that's important to the plot will be mentioned here again, just later, so the Tumblr codes are almost like... spoilers?**

 **Haruka**

 **Riven's POV**

 **-2 weeks later-**

" _Noxus has amassed enough sin to condemn it for eternity," Alexandros snarls in a voice that has not yet broken, a voice that betrays his youth when he died. Barely fourteen years old…_

" _To bring children into a war… how despicable," Andrew growls from behind him, raising a skeletal hand to rest on the boy's bloody shoulder, "Commander, you have seen the destruction our city-state has wrought on friend and foe alike without hesitation. How can you still love it?"_

 _How could I not? Noxus has been the apple of my eye since the day I could form coherent thought, I have dedicated my life to my homeland. Its spirit has guided me from my first steps, deeply ingrained in my soul; Noxus is more than just a city-state to me. Rotten as it may be, at its core, it is still the Noxus I grew up in, and I will never give up on it…_

" _Noxus is too far gone," Edmund sighs, shaking his head, which causes the flap of skin lingering over his revealed bones to sway sickeningly, "It is time to burn it down and start over."_

 _The chant begins again, the sentence of damnation for the city-state I love more than anything, anyone, else. There is no hope, they insist, but…_

 _No, no, no…_

"Riven, hey, Riven!" a gentle, worried voice pulls me from the depths of my terror, and I crack open heavy eyelids to see the Lady of Luminosity leaning over me, her hands firmly gripping my bony shoulders. Relief floods her features as she pulls me into a hug, "It was just a dream, you're alright now."

I stiffen but do not pull away, allowing her to hold on to me for a moment longer. There is comfort in the warmth of another human being, and I do not want to let it go just yet. I've been letting her touch linger more and more each day, I wonder if I should start getting concerned about it.

The little communication crystal in the corner of the room suddenly blares to life, making us both start, a Summoner's urgent voice filling the room.

"All yordle champions are now officially under strict sanction, they will not be allowed to return home or send any gold out of the Institute's lands. This is in response to the yordle terrorist attacks that have been occurring across Piltover, which have claimed more than three hundred lives. The Institute of War will not negotiate with terrorists, and any suspected of aiding them will be infinitely detained."

Yordle terrorism? Those are two words no one would ever expect to hear side by side, considering the universal cute, fluffy and weak reputation the yordles have. What would cause them to act in such a way, to lash out with extreme violence not associated with their species?

Most importantly, what have they done in the last two weeks? I've been far too out of it to pay any attention to what is happening, and as I haven't been on the Fields of Justice and talk to no one in my rare trips to the cafeteria, I know next to nothing about the whole yordle fiasco.

Concern floods Lux's features as she tunes the frequency of the communication crystal to the international news, an image of smoking homes in Piltover filling the blank wall. The yordles are demanding equality, seething over their small standing in society, furious that they have always been seen as the weaker, lesser race of Runeterra. The Sheriff of Piltover, alongside her Enforcer and a number of other Piltoverian champions, has returned to their homeland in order to combat these terrorists. The Institute of War has firmly stated its position; it will not negotiate with lowlifes who target innocents, and has offered full support to Piltover's police force in order to quell the uprising.

Despite their diminutive size and adorable, high-pitched voices, yordles can do a surprising amount of damage – that much is obvious from the background the news anchor is standing in front of. A number of buildings have collapsed, including a wing of the extremely prominent Piltover Technological University.

Before my eyes, the ruined facades of Piltover's housing estates morph into the outer ring of Noxus, the skull-shaped peak of Noxus High Command appearing, partially obscured, in the smoke-ridden background. Screams begin to pierce the blood-colored sky as sickly green bombs break through the cloud cover, the stench of chemicals clogging my throat as the vials break, sending splashes of acid through the residential areas.

" _C-Commander… help… me…"_

To my horror, the streets of Noxus gives way to Coeur Valley in Shon-Xan, the agonized faces of my Company members filling the screen; Zephyr's terrified eyes, Peter and Reece's joined hands, charred into a singular entity, Edmund's desperate gaze…

" _D-don't want… to die…"_

Alexandros' final words pierce me deeply, bringing tears to my eyes. He was too young to fight in a war, too young to die. He had forged his papers to enlist, adding four whole years to his age, only to die helplessly like this, too young, too young, like all the children that we murdered in Noxus' name.

The most despicable thing one could ever do is drag children onto the battlefield…

The scene shifts rapidly, the charred earth of the valley morphing into the smoking huts of an Ionian village, the very first one my Company had ever burned. Bodies are splayed all over the scarlet ground, some painfully small, the desperate villagers rushing at us with hoes and shovels as we mindlessly continued our rampage of destruction. Futilely, they came at us again and again, their legs trembling on the bloodstained soil of the battlefield, as we mechanically ended their lives.

Emptying a village by your own hand is always more sickening than seeing the charred remains of the Zaunite Melters' work, it stays with you for much longer.

 _Please, stop!_ we had considered pleading back then, begging them to roll over and die, to minimize their suffering, because what could farm tools do against blades and runic weaponry? All they could do was cause more pain as they struggled uselessly onward with missing limbs, blood and tears cascading down their distorted faces.

Bile wells, sour and sticky, in the back of my throat, easily spilling out onto crisp, white sheets as my body begins to convulse; the color of their blood seeps into my eyes, dyeing everything crimson. That Ionian village had been completely unarmed, unlike the Wuju village that we annihilated later in the war; they were not of the slightest threat to us. They could not have hoped to battle us, but they did so anyway; despite their pacifism, they were strongly loyal to Ionia and refused to surrender. They had pride in their land, they loved their home, and refused to open their doors to what they perceived was an invasion.

Unfortunately for them, the Institute decided to see them as a selfish city-state refusing to lend aid to another in need, due to the fact that the Void War had caused thousands, millions of Noxians to become homeless. We had been refugees, unsettled by the destruction of the previous war, and ended up walking onto the site of a brand new war.

Without any help, their resistance was painfully pointless – only the strongest swordsmen, warriors and mages could hope to combat the Noxian Army. All the foolish, peaceful villagers could do was turn the earth to mud with their blood.

"Riven…"

Indeed, I am riven, riven with guilt and pain and regret, torn apart violently by the bloodshed I have caused, the wounds that I have left behind that will never fade away. That is why I chose that name for myself, casting aside the name Noxus knew me by and taking on a symbol, a symbol of my broken state…

I am too weak to even turn away from myself as the bile forces its way out once more, spilling into my lap. Twitching feebly like a body about to die, I stare glassily ahead at the torturous images from my unforgivable past. More villages, some stronger than others, fill my vision, forcing me to remember the lives that I have taken, the stories that I have ended, and others that I warped and distorted down the path of darkness.

One in particular forces its way to the front of my mind: the story of one of my greatest victories, and one of my greatest regrets.

Yasuo, the Unforgiven, who was forced to slay his own brother because my blade's style was similar to his. Yasuo, the Unforgiven, whom Ionia blames for sins I committed, who suffered and continues to suffer because of my actions. Yasuo, the Unforgiven, who was punished for his desire to defend his country by my actions.

 _Which weighs more, Riven? Your blade, or your past?_

He is bitter, and he has all the right to be, he thinks that Yone's blood stains my hands as well as his own, but those words still cut deep, deeper than any blade ever could. My past, the answer is undoubtedly my past; nothing on Runeterra can weigh any more than it does.

I wish I could apologize to you, to every single Ionian I have wronged, but I know that it is a pathetic attempt to placate my guilt-ridden soul. No, an apology, however sincere, can never make up for the things that I have done, I do not deserve to be freed so easily from my burden. It has been so many years since the war ended, since the day I stepped onto the battlefield on Shon-Xan at barely fifteen years old, so many years since I fled the graveyard in the Coeur Valley at eighteen, so many years since the Great Stand of the Placidium signaled the beginning of the end of that senseless culling, yet I am still weighted.

Trapped in a dark world of my own doing, I tremble in pain and guilt as my stomach rebels deep within me, the calls of the outside world fading into the background of agonized screams and declarations of never-ending hate.

 _I have not forgotten, Ionia, and I have not forgiven._

 **Lux's POV**

Soraka makes the final decision to discharge Riven after her third breakdown of the day, acknowledging that the stressful, _Ionian_ environment is not the best place for her to recover. It is a bitter pill for Soraka to swallow, after all, there hasn't been anyone she hasn't been able to heal before, and I kind of understand why she's so reluctant to let Riven leave.

Riven is in her room now, asleep, still hooked up to a drip for her own good. Meanwhile, I have been called by Varus to speak with him in the archery fields, as he has something to tell me about "the Exile's time in Ionia". Whatever it is, I am positive it will not be any good; after all, his sole purpose of living is to ensure that the Noxian invaders of his homeland get their reckoning.

As I enter the archery field, Varus is practicing, firing those dark, semi-liquid arrows he pulls out of thin air, filling the newly replaced sandbags with dozens of holes. Without turning, he speaks, "You are aware of my story?"

"A Pit of Pallas." Everyone knows that, the Pit is a legendary source of great malice and evil, and most humans would not be foolish enough to ever near one. There was, is, one in Ionia, and instead of avoiding it like many old civilizations did, the Ionians assigned someone to guard it.

Unfortunately for Varus, he ended up the Pit's guardian during Noxus' invasion of Ionia.

"Honor-bound to my duty, I chose to abandon my village," Varus says softly, the next arrow he fires sinking with a sickening thud into the concrete wall behind the sandbags, "I sundered the foolish Noxians who tried to take the temple, but at the cost of my family, my friends, my entire home."

He turns now, regret pooling in his dark eyes, "I have never stopped regretting my decision, Lady of Luminosity. It is a painful thing, regret, one that you would wish only upon your worst enemies."

Taking a deep breath, Varus rests the bow, looking up at the sky, "My son, Theshan, when I came upon his body, it was clear he had been murdered by a warrior of the wind. You know what this means, do you not?"

"Riven," the realization makes my blood run cold; is she aware of this fact? If she is not, how badly would it kill her to find out, to look at the broken, corrupted father of a boy she had murdered?

"Indeed, it is very likely that my son's blood stains the Exile's hands, and I will never forgive her for it," his voice is cold, hard, full of the bitterness that most Ionians fought hard to get rid of. "I am a fallen Ionian, a traitor to the spirit and morals of my faction. _Retribution_ is but a pretty word for _vengeance_ , Lady of Luminosity, do not be fooled by the sense of righteousness it has."

There is so much to the Ionian War, and Riven's part in it, that I do not know, so many stories I have yet to discover. Yasuo's brother, Varus' son, who else in the League has she wronged with her sword?

"However," he sighs, the angered tension in his body seeping away, "I see the regret that burns within her, that haunts her every living moment. It will not make me forgive her, nothing will, but the light that shines upon her is different from that which darkens the shadows upon other Noxians."

"As an Ionian, I am telling you this in hopes that you will be able to help her live, truly live, again. It has been three years since the war, three years since our freedom; it is time for her to move forward."

Oh, Riven, if only you could hear this yourself, if only you could see… Ionia might not be able to forgive you completely, but it does not wish death upon you. It will remember your sins, but it will also remember any good that you do, because you have shown them that within you beats a heart of gold.

"Thank you, Varus." He merely waves me off, picks up his bow and returns to his shooting, the dark evidence of his corruption swirling about him.

The Ionian War… there is so much about it that we never bothered to learn about. Demacia hung back looking morally superior as the Ionians suffered, and Ionia was only truly freed when Lee Sin set himself alight in protest for the city-state that had adopted him and welcomed him despite his sin. We never stopped to look at individual stories, to study the destruction of the Wuju, of the Hiten, of the temples and the peaceful villages full of spiritualists, we merely lumped them as "Ionians who suffered", making them more of a statistic than a tragedy.

Just as I am about to return to Riven's room, head spinning with the history and agony of the Ionian people, a Breaking News announcement catches my attention, causing me to stop. The yordle terrorists have seen the sanction of their 'heroic champions' as discrimination and have declared all-out war, resolving to turn Piltover and Demacia into seas of fire.

This is stupid - have they not learned from the invasion of Ionia? Do they wish such pain upon themselves as well as their enemies? Do they wish to destroy a generation, more than a generation, of living beings just for the sake of pride?

According to the report, the Institute has officially allowed Prince Jarvan IV, Xin Zhao and my elder brother to return to Demacia to defend it, and says that it will consider allowing any worried Demacian or Piltoverian champion to return to their homeland if they approach them with the desire to.

"Just as Noxus has learned, Bandle City will learn, we will not give in to mindless violence."

Disbelief and anger wells inside me at the statement - what is there to learn from the Institute's slow response to Ionia's suffering? It took seven years before they moved, and in those seven years, a child like Riven was shipped to Ionia to begin a rampage of bloodshed, ending pitifully in the Coeur Valley at Shon-Xan, three years later, leaving her scars that will never fade away. Will yordle, Demacian and Piltoverian children be forced to grow up the same way, haunted by the atrocities they have committed? Will they, too, end up without roots, drifting in self-imposed exile in a hostile world they assume wishes retribution upon them?

I thought the Institute of War was created to settle conflicts peacefully, so that innocent blood will never be wasted again. Why are they not doing their job, covering the conflict within the Rift? Why can't they just give those yordles equal rights and get it over with? How about another match like the one between Noxus and Ionia, this time to determine if the yordles gain their rights in other city-states?

I loathe politics; it is why I have never really used my Crownguard title for anything. I want to distance myself from the upper echelons of Demacia, from the pointless conflicts that politics are perfect at starting. It is because of political decisions that soldiers like Riven suffer today, haunted and stained and broken, and I want no part of such a cruel system.

The world does not move forward _because_ of politicians, but _in spite_ of them.

 **Riven's POV**

Once again, the Lady of Luminosity peppers me with almost inhuman kindness, watching over me as if I were a sick child instead of a hollow murderer. Trying to draw my thoughts from Noxus, she attempts to ask my opinion on the yordle terrorists and the war they have openly declared, but I honestly do not care. I must… I must find a way to restore Noxus to its former glory; I must find a way to sway my city-state back to the spirit it was founded upon: the survival of the strongest.

Noxus had abandoned too much the day it resolved that victory mattered more than the spirit it had been founded upon. It became a power-hungry, prideful coward, it _broke_. That day in Shon-Xan, I had decided three things: my sword was broken, I was broken and Noxus was broken.

Someday, I hoped to reforge them all.

That was my goal, to somehow influence Noxus back to its old path, but I am too far away from High Command to ever achieve such a thing, and Noxus' current General, Swain, is a power-hungry man whose soul will never be sated no matter how much he achieves. He is an ambitious thief, delighting in the treasures of other city-states which he forcefully stole, seeking domination of Runeterra. As long as he sits at the helm, Noxus will never be redeemed.

However, I have no hope of overthrowing Swain, of doing anything that would register in the eyes of Noxus. I have been labeled a traitor, a deserter, a weakling who could not stand up in trying times; my city-state is too far beyond my reach now. The dreams I have harbored for the past three years have faded, and if I cannot redeem myself, there is no other choice but death.

Frustrated with the Lady of Luminosity's constant attempts to engage me in conversation, I escape to the Grand Library of the Institute, ignoring the concerned gaze of the ever-watchful Curator of the Sands as I make my way to the most ignored part of the library, the section about Noxian history. No one, not even Noxians themselves, is bothered with the bloodshed that made the city-state what it is today. All we use are the stories of frightening, powerful soldiers, Generals who conquered everything in sight, to scare or inspire the next generation.

At the corners of my vision, my dead men stand, watching, as Alexandros approaches a leather bound book marked with _The Ionian War_ , acid-stripped fingers passing through the tome. "I wonder, do they honor us as heroes, we who were marked collateral damage?"

"What good would it do if they did?" Andrew growls, turning to pin me with a hollow, piercing glare, "Mere words and images in a history book will never be worth the future they stripped from hundreds, thousands of children with their war."

Unable to answer, I can only stare wordlessly at him, aware that his hatred is justified, no matter how much I wish it were not. Noxus did destroy the lives of children, even their own – toward the later half of the war, they had lowered the conscription age from sixteen to thirteen.

"I was so impressed when you first stepped off the boat," Edmund says, leaning against a bookshelf casually, "You were barely fifteen years old, yet your sword was just about as tall as you were and you could hold it with a single hand. We couldn't keep our jaws off the ground, Commander."

"Tch. While the boys gasped in wonder, all I could do was shake my head at the sight of yet another child on the battlefield," Andrew mumbles sullenly, obviously displeased. As a father, the painful sight of children fighting a war cut him deep, and he had never forgiven Noxus for it. "Did you forget that she was only shipped as a replacement Commander because our first was brutally gutted?"

"Devastation and fire in the gaze of a child, that is the worst kind of war."

Peter and Reece, their hands still a mass of melted flesh fused together, approach Andrew and attempt to soothe him, the way they used to when they were alive. Meanwhile, Kendall and Maes, two of Edmund's closest friends, and mine as well, approach me and drag me closer to Edmund.

"Do you remember the day he confessed to you, Commander?" Maes asks cheerfully as he shoves me, a teasing note in his voice, "I can still recall the look on his face when you told him you were gay."

Edmund attempts to frown with what remains of his face, the lone cheek he has left coloring. Laughing, Maes throws one partially melted arm, bloodied muscles exposed, over his friend's shoulder, accepting the gentle knuckle to the back of the head.

"Maes, we aren't here to play," Kendall rebukes, dragging his friend by the torn, bleeding ear, "We're here to remind Commander why Noxus has a price to pay."

"Oh, yeah!" Maes can never be negative, no matter what, he was the only one still capable of smiling after months of killing civilians, watching mothers cry and children stumble before our blades silenced them forever. It was what made him the Fury Company's most valuable member – the never-ending light in his heart. "You do know that everyone has a reckoning, don't you? We had ours melting in Shon-Xan, you have yours living in a world of endless battle, and Noxus will have its own when it finally burns to the ground."

"There are some sins that we just can't forgive," Edmund adds, the embarrassment in his eyes completely consumed by blind hatred. It pains me to see him that way, to connect this bitter ghoul with the loyal, awkward and straightforward Ed I had known.

Shin, who has been lingering quietly at the farthest end of the Noxian history row, suddenly points to a book and says, "There is…"

All of a sudden, his voice changes from the familiar baritone of a young man to a high, clear girl's voice, one that has just barely lost the youthful edge of a child. "There is a way to be good again, Exile. Within the book is the way to free Noxus."

Nasus' ears flick, to my surprise, and he requests in his deep voice that we keep our discussion to a minimum within his library.

Was I not speaking to specters that exist only in my mind? How can he hear them? Am I talking aloud to myself? Am I really that far gone?

"He knows," somehow, I know the _He_ is not Nasus, but someone else, some _thing_ else, "I have not the strength to stay. Keep safe."

With that, the young girl's voice fades back into Shin's, and I brush past him to pick up the book. Dusty, old, bound in cracked leather, the book is unmarked save for a singular number "2".

In my head, the childish female voice echoes, "There is a way to be good again, Exile. There is a way to be good again."

" _To free Noxus."_

" _To be good again."_

I would do anything for that, absolutely anything. I might be going insane, but if this book can make things right again, I will gladly embrace insanity. It is a small price to pay, after all, for atonement.

"If you can, Commander, then we shall forgive you," Edmund's voice rasps softly, barely audible, yet heavy enough to take my breath away. "You might even be able to forgive yourself."

Forgiveness… if I can attain it, I might be able to live with myself…

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading, please leave a review if you wish! They really keep me going! Also, be on the lookout for more coded extras for the story (and other things)!**

 **Please leave a review behind if you enjoyed the story. It really motivates me to write!**

 **Haruka**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Did you manage to crack the code? Those who have, try not to ruin the fun for others, okay? It's a fairly simple code, because I hand-encrypted all these messages in under forty-five minutes while under the influence of fluoxetine, which I really am not too hot about.**

 **I'm uploading this in honor of SKT's performance at IEM today; they've been doing better than I expected. It's great to see Blank performing better, and to see Duke gelling better with the rest of SKT. They're not the winner of Worlds anymore, and they need to do much better to have any hope of taking down the ROX Tigers.**

 **Now, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited or followed, you're really giving me a lot of support and encouraging me to work harder!**

 **Haruka**

 **Riven's POV**

Chaos, that seems to be the default setting of the world. The instant an opportunity presents itself, everything disintegrates, the semblance of order fading like dewdrops in the morning, until blood is spilled and shrieks of agony rip at both sides. Civilization is such a terrible thing, all it does is wage war after war, until there is no one left to fight.

The rapid worsening of the yordle resistance has thrown a wrench into the Institute's daily workings, with all League-related activities suspended until further notice. Most champions have returned to the homes that still welcome them, armed to the teeth and ready to fight, while I remain unwanted in the shadowed halls. Even if Noxus were still to welcome me, I have little reason to return there regardless; there is no danger to my corrupt, power-hungry homeland, not from the yordles.

For some reason, the Lady of Luminosity decided to stay behind as well, instead of return to the troubled Demacia. The light in her eyes tells me that she does not believe this will last; she trusts in the strength of her brother and her army to solve this increasingly problematic issue.

Now that we are mostly alone, her advances seem to have risen a notch, or maybe two hundred; at any given opportunity she tackles me with a hug, her hands nearly always finding some way to linger on my body, her cheek pressing against my own as she excitedly shows me something. It is disturbing, receiving touches without the intention to harm, but they are easy enough to ignore.

The book that holds the key to my redemption is so much more important.

 _He is watching, he always has been, but now he is angry. He actually is starting to see me as a threat… and that does not bode well for my survival. Before I die, I need to find a way to spread this message; we cannot afford to let him have his way._

 _He has strength beyond our imagination, and unbidden, he crawls through our minds – no, he does not crawl; he rampages through claiming its space as his own. But there are limits to his power, since he is restrained and weakened, if you prevent his initial entry, he will not be able to harm you. Once he enters, however, he can always return, he is a voice in your head you will scream upon hearing, and should you attempt to resist, you will become a frothing zombie desiring blood. If you give in, you will be a semi-intelligent puppet, still out for blood, just less… rabid._

 _He cannot enter a mind without a ritual now, unless it is an empty, weak mind, but the ritual is fairly easy to perform. All he requires is darkness, and one of his servants, a few whispered words and the deed is done. That is why I have been shying from the dark, sleeping in the light, that is why I have spent several months amongst the Solari. If you are in the same dire state, go to them, the Solari are welcoming to all who love the sun._

 _I need to find out more about him, and the powers he possesses._

The next few pages contain little stories of victims she has been watching, or victims detailed in ancient scripture showing similar symptoms. Whoever this "he" is, he is extremely powerful, capable of swaying the minds of living beings to his will, breaking them down should they try to resist.

 _Before our history even began, beings like him roamed this world, too strong to ever be touched. No one but they know how they were cast aside and sealed in the ensuing Rune Wars, all we know is that this displeases them, and this one, at the very least, wants to find a way to gain his strength back._

 _As I have written earlier, I highly suspect that he has infiltrated Noxian ranks in the recent years, they have always been a bloodthirsty people but this is new. There is talk of war, it frightens me, I think I am too late to prevent this round of bloodletting._

Noxus, this creature is in Noxus? The war she mentioned could be any one, in recent years Noxus has fought both Demacia and Ionia, while historically, it has challenged civilizations that ended up falling, crumbling like a house of cards beneath the white-hot flame of Noxian determination.

If it is the Ionian War… that means some evil being was behind it the whole time, and this creature was the reason why thousands suffered for little reason. The settlement of the refugees could have been done amicably, could have been done elsewhere, on neutral territory, yet Noxus had insisted upon the island of Shon-Xan, insisted upon spreading through Galrin and Navori. If this being is the reason why I had to fight on that despicable battlefield, why Alexandros lost his life at the early age of fourteen, why the Ionians struggle even now with the scars of hatred…

If this is true, I will do anything in my power to identify, locate and defeat this being, to send it away to a place where it can no longer meddle with our affairs, freeing Noxus from its evil. Is that what she meant by "a way to be good again", I wonder? Banishing the cause of all this suffering…

However, am I capable of doing such a thing, weak and human as I am? The author of the book makes him sound like a deadly god, a being more terrifying than the champions of the Shadow Isles or the Void, an unearthly creature with powers that could put even Vilemaw to shame.

 _He has the ability to summon minions at a whim, anywhere he desires, unless the pure spirituality of the place overpowers him. Even in the light, even on the steep slopes of Targon, his minions can appear, defying the sacred mountain. The Solari's temples are no longer a safe place for me to hide, and there is only one place I can go to now._

 _Ionia._

 _I must head to Ionia as swiftly as possible, before his minions catch up with me._

Flipping the yellowed pages, I continue studying the author's journey toward Ionia, taking note of her repeated warnings.

 _He is always watching through the eyes of eagles. Never speak of this out loud; you do not know if he already has an eye there. If he finds you telling… only the strongest magic can keep him away._

 _Trust no one; you do not know who is working under him. His minions are everywhere, mindless puppets in lively shells, and if this book gets into their hands, society as we know it is doomed._

 _If we can stop him, we might be able to stop any more pointless wars from happening. We will be able to do more than the Institute of War could have ever dreamed, to finally cease the suffering and bloodshed of innocents. If anything happens to me, please, whoever who gets this, fight him. Fight him for me, for us, for the world._

 _It will not be safe to leave any of my books where people know they are, and I definitely cannot keep them close to each other. To lose them all is to lose the hope of the world._

 _Regardless, there is a way to find them, reader, if you truly wish to aid me in my quest. In the light that pierces through the darkness, you shall find your clue._

Shivering involuntarily, I silently wonder what I am up against. A beast that threatens society, that threatens the _world_ , how powerful does it have to be? How much magic must one have to freely control the minds of others, especially in this time and age, with the Institute's watchful eyes on all forms of sorcery?

"Watching through the eyes of eagles"… Does this creature have something to do with one of the Institute's newer champions, the Emperor of the Sands? He surely is ancient enough, having come from a time where Shurima was a powerful empire instead of a desert wasteland, and he is… a bird of some sort, I would assume. And if he does indeed command the eyes of all eagles, does that mean General Swain's bird, as well as the animal half of Demacia's Wings, work for him as well?

Is he merely confined to the eyes of living eagles, or are images and statues of them also out of bounds? Just in case, I shall avoid anything with birds on it while I have the book in my hands, it is better to be safe than sorry. Or dead.

Stifling a yawn, I ignore my body's exhaustion, plunging deeper into the old, musty-smelling pages, now describing, with the aid of hand drawn images, the legion of ghouls available to this creature. Mostly deformed beasts, they look like something that clawed its way out of the Void, horrible monsters with long fangs or wickedly curved claws.

 _I call these ones the Yameki, Ancient Ionian for Dark Ones. Unlike the others, who seem bioluminescent, these ones thrive in pitch darkness. In the light, they are weak, blind, they rely on their hearing to move, their eyes screwed tightly shut – it seems that they are extremely photosensitive. In the dark, however, they are the whistling in the wind, faster than an arrow, and they rarely ever miss a strike. They are extremely dangerous, if they immobilize you in the dark; it is easy for one of his less beastly minions to say the incantation to get him into your mind. Against them, the best thing to do is attach yourself to the most reliable light source around and decapitate them while they are weakened. The easiest way to do so is to position your blade between the third and fourth ridge on their neck, it is a weak spot that will allow you to easily cleave through their flesh._

Staring back at me is an image of a long, four-legged creature that looks rather like the Void Burrower, their facial features mostly indistinguishable on their armored heads, save for a wide mouth filled with jagged teeth. It is impossible to tell their size relative to a human being from those sketches, but if they are similar to the Void Burrower, they will be capable of quite a lot of damage.

 _The Yameki are one of the few with physical bodies, the rest are, like he himself, more spirit than anything else. However, with a runic blade, they can still be cut, though they are capable of speeds much higher than the minions trapped with heavy physical forms._

Primal fear swells deep within me at the thought of ever facing such beasts, but I easily quell it. This is the way to be good again, this is the way to stop pointless warfare, this is the way to be _forgiven_. No matter how hard the road may be, I will walk it, the strength of my spirit has returned and I am no longer lost. The past weighs me down, dragging at my ankles, but I will endure a thousand-fold before I would let something like the Ionian War happen again.

A purpose, now that I have one, the pathetic weakness of my past few weeks drains away, leaving me with the same cold, pained determination I had the day I shattered my sword. The road can try its best to throw everything at me; I will not give in, not until the hope of success diminishes to a complete zero.

A way to be good again, I have finally found it, and I will be damned if I let it escape my grasp because of some silly fear.

 **Lux's POV**

Despite my attempts to interact, Riven continues burying herself in that old-smelling book she's been carrying around all day, and in the end, I give up and decide to just watch her expression slowly, minutely change with each page. There seems to be worry in her eyes, and a little bit of fear, and I watch quietly as it grows.

There are no signs on the book's plain binding to hint to me of its contents, and I can only stare curiously as the emotions swim in her eyes, eyes now alight with determination, with rekindled hope. It comforts me, the knowledge that her hope has returned, but I wonder what the cause of it is, and how long it can last.

Hopefully, it will last forever, but there is only so long a person can hope for something before it falls away into the chasm of unachieved dreams, leaving behind an agonizing emptiness. I know that pain, believe me.

At two in the afternoon, I decide to go and bring us something to eat; I highly doubt Riven will notice my absence, wrapped up in that book as she is. I hate feeling so useless, just sitting around staring at the way the light hits Riven's face, so I might as well do something. Hopefully, Nasus will not mind us eating in the library; he is the Institute's self-appointed librarian and is very protective of the books here.

The dining hall is almost eerily empty, the only champion sitting at the buffet table is Kayle, the Judicator, who raises a hand in greeting to me as I pass by. Her younger sister, Morgana, enters the dining hall shortly after I have, only to stiffen and turn to leave without a word. Kayle does not even bother to acknowledge that her sister had shown herself, glaring daggers at her plate, and I quickly fill two before scampering back to the library; I do not want to get swept up in the sisterly affairs of angels. Especially not angels who loathe each other and would stop at nothing to get the other's head on a silver platter.

"Hey, Riven, I've brought food," I call out when I arrive; ignoring the dirty look Nasus throws my way. To my surprise, she mumbles a thanks and takes the plate from me, doing more eating than rearranging this time round. Something really has changed…

"You've found a new reason to live, haven't you?" I murmur, half to myself, and Riven tears her gaze from the book long enough to gaze at me in confusion. "I can see it in your eyes."

Riven smiles, almost sheepishly, and nods in confirmation, her mouth too full to make a polite response. Cheerfully, I assure her that I will stay by her side and do whatever I can to help, if I must, causing a different smile to bloom across her sallow cheeks.

It is a strange smile, there is a dark edge to it, but I cannot put my finger on what it is exactly. Unreadable, it is unreadable, just like the tone of her voice as she mumbles yet another _thank you_.

Suddenly, her shoulders slump over, and she looks up at me with startled, sleepy eyes, a prickle of betrayal running through them. "Did you…" she yawns, her eyelids drooping, "put something… in this?"

Oh… Does she really believe that I would drug her? I'm a little hurt, but, considering the relationship between Demacia and Noxus, I guess I shouldn't have expected anything else. After all, if I suddenly felt sleepy after a Noxian brought me food, a _working Noxian still enlisted in the army_ , I would definitely have a billion alarm bells going off in my brain.

"Nope, but it seems I should have. Soraka's medications must have just worn off; she did say you'd feel a crash afterwards." I did not expect the effects of the drugs to be so powerful, but I guess Soraka's remedies have to be really strong to achieve those kinds of results… "I can get her here if you want."

"No…" her voice trails off into yet another yawn, and before I can suggest helping her back to her bedroom, Riven completely collapses on me; her head bumping against my shoulder and warm breath tickling my neck. I flinch, suppressing a yelp of surprise, trying to suppress the pounding of my heart.

 _Pull yourself together, Crownguard, she needs help. Sleeping in this position is going to be hell on her neck._ Funneling my thoughts to platonic directions, I wrap one arm around her too-thin waist, shivering slightly as I feel the distinct shape of her ribs against my skin.

Picking up her painfully light form, I tuck the book into the crook of my arm before leaving, reassuring Nasus that I will clean up our plates after I have taken Riven to her room and no, we did not spill anything on any of his precious history books.

Jeez, the guy-dog-thing can be such a hardass sometimes.

 **No POV, Somewhere in the Targon region**

" _You said she would be no threat!"_

 _Hidden in an ancient Lunari hideout in the side of the mountain are two figures, lit by the same eerie green light from before. One is standing, obviously armed, while the other remains seated in an almost arrogantly calm manner, despite the fact that there is no visible weapon on its person._

" _She has the second book, how long before she finds the rest?!"_

" _Relax, brother. Is that not what we are here for, to destroy them? That she has a clue to their whereabouts aids our cause."_

" _How are you so sure?"_

" _Our Lord never fails, brother. Fear not, the moment we know where the other books are… we will surely get to them before she does."_

" _Well…"_

" _She has a physical body, many of us do not. Why do you fear a mere human soldier so?"_

" _We have waited so long… I cannot tolerate any threats, my brother. As long as she breathes, there is a chance that she reaches them and takes them to safety before we can do a thing."_

" _The Lord has already eradicated the most troublesome one, why fear?"_

" _That he waited to eradicate her caused this problem today!"_

 _"Are you accusing our Lord, are you doubting his decisions?"_

 _"O-of course not, brother! Our Lord knows all, but we, as his human pawns, can make mistakes. Are you sure we are not underestimating her?"_

" _It is a game, brother, where would the fun be if we show our hand too early?"_

" _I do not wish to be the cause of our Lord's loss, my brother."_

" _You will not be. Rest assured, brother, all is well. The Exile is playing a game she has yet to understand."_

" _Very well, I will defer to your judgment."_

 _The light intensifies for a painful moment, then fades away altogether, leaving the seated figure alone in the shadows of the Lunari. He scoffs under his breath, marveling at the stupidity and audacity of the fool he must call_ brother.

" _Who are you to think you can judge me?"_

 _When this game is over, he will surely punish the delusional worm – force him to acknowledge his smallness in the world. In time, he will suffer for the words that he dared speak._

" _Who are you to raise your blade against me?!"_

 _Severely._

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Do leave a review behind if you have anything at all to say. They motivate me to keep working!**

 **Haruka**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello again, everyone! I realize I have been updating very regularly for this story, or well, more regularly than is normal for me, and I may have spoiled you guys. I will definitely not be able to continue on this kind of schedule, you will most likely get one more like Lilium's – irregular, with months of emptiness in-between. Especially now that I'm in my final year…**

 **Also, Danganronpa is going to be my priority – there's going to be an anime which will have the school years of my precious SHSL Despairs, as well as 12 new characters, and another game! I'm really excited! But that also means LoL and writing will most likely take a backseat.**

 **Still, I will not abandon this story, even if I can only update once a year, I will continue. Please be patient with me!**

 **Haruka**

 **Riven's POV**

Somehow, I have ended up in my bed, though I have no recollection of ever returning to my room. Sitting up, I suppress a gasp of surprise as I notice the Lady of Luminosity sitting, asleep, next to my bed, one hand loosely wrapped around my own. It seems that she carried me here after I passed out at the library…

A small smile tugs at the edges of my lips as I gently pat the top of her head, careful not to awaken her, "You're too good for me, Lady of Luminosity."

Why does she treat me with such kindness, going out of the way to keep me comfortable, when I have done nothing for her? All I have done in my life is hurt others, why does she not treat me as the monster I rightfully am? Where is the enmity that exists between our city-states? It is puzzling, for some reason, this Demacian has ignored all the bloodstains that cover me, choosing to treat me with warm selflessness that I do not, will not ever, deserve.

 _Why, Luxanna Crownguard, why?_

The blaring alarm of an emergency news broadcast causes both of us to jump out of our skins, startled, as the screen hums to life before us. More yordles have joined the worldwide rebellion, and one of the training barracks in Demacia was blown up last night, resulting in the deaths of more than two hundred young Demacian cadets. The Lady of Luminosity pales as the report continues, saying that the yordles seem to be going insane, some of them frothing at the mouth, and the Institute's own yordle champions have similarly lost their sanity. Soraka is currently caring for them, administering medications to calm them, while the rest of the world scrambles to respond to the rising threat.

Leaders from all over the world have harsh, condemning words for the yordles and for Bandle City, ordering that the yordles stop their heartless, mindless acts of terror and expressing their solidarity with Demacia and the families of the victims. It's all pointless frivolities, to be honest, just empty words that cannot even hope to stop a terrorist organization.

But… the whole yordle terrorism thing is extremely unlike them. They are not bloodthirsty creatures, not under normal circumstances, and there is no way so many of them could have been corrupted by solitary confinement so suddenly. Is this possibly the work of the supernatural being I am supposed to combat? Is that why Noxus and Zaun have not been targeted, because they are allies of this being? Is this another round of… what did the book's author call it… _bloodletting_?

Immediately, I grab the book off my nightstand and flip through it with a frantic desperation, stopping only when I have come to the page I am seeking.

 _He has strength beyond our imagination, and unbidden, he crawls through our minds – no, he does not crawl; he rampages through claiming its space as his own. But there are limits to his power, since he is restrained and weakened, if you prevent his initial entry, he will not be able to harm you. Once he enters, however, he can always return, he is a voice in your head you will scream to hear, and should you attempt to resist, you will become a frothing zombie desiring blood. If you give in, you will be a semi-intelligent puppet, still out for blood, just less… rabid._

Indeed, the yordles are exhibiting signs of being possessed, but how will I know for sure? Will it be dangerous for me to approach the yordles to find out? Will he be able to see me through their eyes, and mark me as an enemy? Is there a way to release them from this creature's hold?

"Riven, what's wrong? You're white as a sheet," the Lady of Luminosity gently takes hold of my trembling hands; worry clear in her crystal blue eyes.

Looking around the room carefully, I ensure there are no bird-related objects around before answering, my voice trembling, "I think I know why the yordles are that way." Shoving the book at her, I point out the relevant passage, fully aware that she probably thinks I am insane as I plead, "I need to talk to one of them, please, will you help me?"

They are in the Ionian Wing, I dare not walk into it, I cannot walk into it, but I must. At the very least, I would like not to meet an Ionian, and the Lady of Luminosity can help me here by distracting the Starchild while I speak to a yordle. There are more important things than my trauma right now, and I must overcome it, for the sake of redemption.

"If it will make you feel better, sure," she smiles, trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice, "Do you want to talk to them now?"

"Yes please." As she heads out the door, I slide the book into a shoebox and shove it under my bed, aware that bringing it along with me might be a very bad idea. It will not be difficult for a possessed yordle to attempt to ruin the book, it is so old and fragile that spilling water on it will probably cause the pages to disintegrate. The author was adamant about keeping it safe, and I will do my best to continue that.

 _Who cares if I am but a mere human trying to rise against an ancient immortal from beyond time? If I accept this, the future will not exist. Hence, I will do whatever I can to stop him, no matter what it costs me._

This duty has fallen to my shoulders now, and I must carry it out to the best of my ability. I cannot sit back as more wars are fought, as more children are sacrificed in a pointless, bloody act that brings nothing but suffering.

 _War does not determine who is right, only who is left._

The author of the book and I share the same beliefs, and hopefully, these beliefs will be able to change, or at least shape, the future. My body may have been weakened, my mind might have collapsed, but there is still enough strength within me to see this through to the end.

 **[Ionian Wing]**

"Hey, Soraka!" the Lady of Luminosity enters the hospital first, greeting the Ionian cheerfully. Struggling to control my rising panic, I lay in wait until the duo draw far enough away for me to avoid them completely, slipping quickly into the nearest ward.

By the door is Edmund, standing at attention, and he smiles sadly at me as I pass him. Kendall and Maes are lingering by the yordle's bed, looking curiously down at the screaming, yelping bundle of fur and restraining bandages.

"Who is this little guy?" Maes asks with a lopsided grin, the yordle's furry fist passing cleanly through his bared collarbones, "And why's he flailing around?"

"I intend to find out, Maes," I tell him, gently pushing him out of the way. Beneath the bandages, the Swift Scout's face has been swollen almost beyond recognition, light pink spittle foaming from between clenched teeth. His eyes are puffy slits, eerily green, and he mumbles senselessly to himself.

"We'll keep an eye on the door for you," Kendall says as he guides the ever-curious Maes away by his rotting elbow, the sense of comradeship I have missed for years flowing warmly over me. Death may have pulled them away, emotions and loyalties may have formed a wall between us, but we are still the Fury Company. The years in Shon-Xan, the battles that we have fought, nothing can ever erase them. We are comrades, in life, in death and even beyond.

"Swift Scout," I call the yordle's title softly, snapping my fingers in an attempt to get his wild, glowing eyes to focus. He refuses to respond, whimpering as he rocks back and forth, his teeth stained red with his own blood from having bitten his tongue. "Swift Scout, can you hear me?"

"I won't listen… no… destroy… must… complete… point… bloodletting… must not… be interrupted… we cannot fail… no… I won't… I can't… I must…"

 _Bloodletting_. The word echoes warningly in my head, and I know right then that I am facing the very monster that immobilized the author of the book, who frightened her enough to flee amongst the Solari, amongst the Ionians, until somehow, she lost her life.

"So you've found the truth," Maes' voice fades out partway through the sentence into the voice of the author, a girl barely out of childhood, "What will you do now?"

At the sound of the girl's voice, the Swift Scout begins raving and shrieking, straining against the bandages as blood streams from his glowing green eyes. His tone has changed to something more depraved, something far angrier and much more desperate; she must have dealt quite a blow to the creature to have it react this way to her presence.

"Fight," the moment I make my response, the yordle shudders, his wild thrashing spraying foul-smelling blood all over the room.

Startled, I draw away from him, conscious of my weak and unarmed state, as the author in Maes' body gazes almost sadly at the heaving bundle of fur. She seems to want to say something, opening her mouth briefly, but quickly closing it and shaking her head.

"Commander, you should take your leave," Edmund calls from the door, his voice knocking some sense back into my body, "An Ionian is on the way."

Thanking him, I dart out the door as quickly as possible, the author of the book calling after me warningly, "The path you are embarking on is stained in blood. Do not take with you anything you are unwilling to lose."

It is an ominous warning; it seems almost as if I am to prepare myself never to return. Still, it is not enough to scare me away; nothing will stand in the way of my redemption, especially not my own fear. I walked onto that battlefield in Shon-Xan, very much a child, prepared to lose my life, and I can still summon that long-forgotten bravery to march into the next life-threatening conflict.

Also, there is nothing I am afraid to lose any more. What have I got left for misery to snatch from my fingers? My friends are gone, buried; they have been that way for years. My homeland has rejected me, I can no longer even dream of returning. My family, or whatever remains of it, has not attempted to contact me for almost a decade. What have I got left that I do not want to lose?

Nothing. I have absolutely nothing left to be ripped from me, but this pathetic thing some would call my life.

I'm afraid of tomorrow, of course I am, just like any other mortal being faced with a dark, crumbling future. Everything is most likely going to continue breaking, shattering beneath my fingertips as I walk onward in the suffocating hopelessness, but that doesn't mean I should give up. I might be able to help light the spark that will let the next generation escape from this darkness.

 _War does not determine who is right, only who is left._ The line echoes in my head, strengthening my resolve with each repetition; I do not want to sit back as more pointless blood is shed, as more lives are callously thrown away by people with spirits too brave for their bodies.

There will not be another Ionia; I swear it on my life.

In step behind me, charred boots barely making a sound against the marble tiles, the Fury Company silently shows its support, a mixture of hollow eye sockets and sparkling eyes trained on my weakened figure. In life, we had marched together, swords in hand, bows at the ready, trusting one another with our lives. In death, we march together, a broken battalion of ghosts, but we will not back down.

This is the true Noxian spirit, unbreakable, honorable. From Alexandros to Peter, from Maes to Shin, it shines strongly; no soldier will ever walk alone.

 **Lux's POV**

The light in Riven's eyes has brightened tenfold, burning with an almost suicidal determination, the unbreakable will of Noxians that makes them so frightening yet so admirable at the same time. No matter how much we hate them, Demacia cannot deny that Noxus is a land of iron; even in the torture chambers of the Royal family, they maintain a feisty defiance that never falters. I have no idea how I should feel seeing that light in her eyes, but it is better than seeing the hollow death that was there just a day before.

Whatever it is that Riven has discovered, crazy as it may sound, it is undoubtedly a threat that she has taken upon herself to eliminate. Teemo's condition is not something I have ever seen, the senseless mumbling, the bloodied frothing; even Soraka has no clue as to what ails them. If she will allow me to, I will do everything in my power to assist her. After all, I promised the Institute that I will be her friend, her confidante, and that includes strange supernatural happenings.

"Riv-" before I can even knock on the door, it swings open and Riven drags me in, slamming it shut behind her. Surprised, I let out a little yelp as she warily looks me over, "What's going on?"

"The book is right," she replies matter-of-factly, the look in her eyes telling me that she obviously expects me not to believe her, "The yordles are being possessed by whatever this being is, and I am going to have to stop it. I promised."

Before I can say a word, she continues fiercely, "Ever since I picked up the book, my nightmares have stopped, and my Company's ghosts no longer rip me apart. It doesn't matter if you think I'm crazy, I am not changing my mind."

There it is again, the indomitable spark of a Noxian warrior. The sight of it brings a smile to my face as I reassure her, "I believe you, Riven. I've seen Teemo myself, and I know that whatever is plaguing him is not natural."

Am I mistaken, or did I see a brief flash of relief in Riven's eyes? It was there for just a moment, barely a flicker, before the Noxian determination floods back in, mixed with very un-Noxian concern. "Something extremely dangerous is at work here, Lady of Luminosity, and it does not involve you. You should leave while you can; I am capable of surviving on my own."

"I'm not going to leave you," I protest immediately, refusing to let her cut in, "I'm in, no regrets. I _know_ that whatever this thing is can probably kill me in a heartbeat, but I never give up."

Riven looks startled for a moment, before her dry lips tilt upwards in a tiny smile as she chuckles. The genuine smile, stretched across sallow cheeks, shines like a diamond in the rough, a little spark of hope in the darkest of hours.

"Thank you," she says, her voice cracks a little. Smiling like a village idiot, I throw my arms around her, nearly bowling her skeletal frame over with my weight, cheerfully telling her that we are going to kick some supernatural butt.

Positivity is a big key in victory, though it is the most overlooked. A smile cannot win a battle, but a soldier who thinks he can win will fight harder than one who thinks all hope is lost.

 **[Institute Library]**

Huddled over the book with a little notepad and a pencil, we search through the passages and take down every little warning of any kind of enemy, just so that we will always know what to look out for.

The darkness is an enemy, so are the eyes of eagles, which means we will most likely be giving the Shuriman-decorated sections of the Institute wide berth. Apparently, through the eyes of any shape that resembles an eagle, this being can watch anyone and anything, and we should try our best to avoid showing our hand.

"He has probably seen me through the Swift Scout," Riven says, "And if he has, leaving the Institute will be rather dangerous for me."

"I can always cloak us," I tell her cheerfully, gesturing to my baton, and her brows furrow as she contemplates it. "His minions don't really like the light, don't they?"

Her lips twitch upward very slightly, and in her hollow, pained form I see more of myself than I'd like to admit. Her devotion to Noxus, pure, powerful, _foolish_ , is exactly the same as my devotion to Demacia. We grew up loving our city-states because we knew no other way, and it was that love that enabled us to survive the horrors we had to endure in our respective armies.

Riven tread a bloodstained path through Ionia, while I lived an empty life, pretending to be someone I was not, regardless of whether I was infiltrating Noxian ranks or on Demacian soil. Yet, our faith never faltered, our _love_ never faltered.

"Lady of Luminosity?" Riven's brow furrows in concern as she snaps skeletal fingers in front of my face, "Are you alright?"

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I nod quickly, changing the subject, "This is the second book, am I right? Do you think it would have clues as to where the first one is?"

Her frown deepens, and for a moment I wonder if she is going to press me. Fortunately, she does not, flipping the page of the book instead, the words she meant to say dying on her tongue.

Scrawled across the last two pages in a heavy, panicked hand with what looks like blood are three statements:  
 _ **HE IS WATCHING  
HE NEVER RESTS  
HIS EYES ARE EVERYWHERE**_

A cold wind swirls around us, rustling the pages of a thousand books as it travels through the library. The book before us, however, does not even twitch, a leaf in the eye of the storm. Fear spikes, primal and desperate, through my being, and it takes all my willpower not to flee like a cowering idiot to the relative safety of my room.

"M-maybe we should take a break," I stutter, trying to calm my breathing, but Riven shakes her head fiercely. To my surprise, she does not seem particularly affected – no – afraid, of the wind, because it seems to have merely strengthened her determination.

"I am a little hungry," she says, giving me a half-pleading look, "Would you please get me some food?"

I have no idea if she is truly hungry or if she is giving me a moment to escape and calm myself, but I accept the offer immediately. Fear is not a good emotion to work with; it colors your judgment and makes you prone to bad decisions. I will be of no help to her in this state, in fact, I will almost be a liability.

Wrapping myself in the warm, bright aura of a light shield, I take deep breaths in time to my steady footsteps, banishing the icy tendrils of dread and terror from my being as I head to the dining hall, trying my best to ignore the creeping silence of empty corridors.

 _C'mon, Luxanna, pull yourself together! You are light, you are warmth, you will be fine…_

The emptiness is echoed in the dining hall – the buffet table has not been filled, not that it should be a surprise considering that most of the champions have left. There's barely anything there, and whatever dishes that have been prepared are mostly picked clean by those who did not return home, or those like Riven and Yasuo who have no home to return to.

The sight of the pathetic scraps of food annoys me a little, I mean, I understand that not many champions who are allowed into the dining hall are left, but they still need to eat. The least they could do was make two meals a day, or maybe start making those tiny, personalized meal packages like they used to before the League expanded into the monstrosity that it is today, with more than 120 champions and thousands of Summoners. That way, those of us who make it to the dining hall late won't have to starve for the entire day.

Sighing deeply, I scrape the plates clean before heading back to Riven's room, trying not to shudder at how eerily silent the halls feel. On normal days, they are alive with activity, Noxians on their way to training rooms, Bilgewater natives heading out to get their daily dose of sea time, Demacians on their way to the bar or to meetings with Prince Jarvan IV, yordles going about their businesses, Caitlyn and Vi hurtling after Jinx with choice expletives as the tiny blue haired terror rushes off with their underpants or bras or Caitlyn's top hat, the sound of moans and drawn out musical notes from Ahri's bedroom… However, today, the only sound is the _tap-tap_ of my boots against the hardwood flooring, echoing unnervingly through empty halls.

 _Don't freak yourself out, Luxanna, that monster can't enter the Institute's grounds. Sure, he may have grown stronger since he can possess beings within the barrier, but he has not shown his hand even though he made Teemo lose it upon sighting Riven, so that should mean that it is beyond his power. Calm down, you are safe here, you are safe…_

 **A/N: Please leave a review if you have anything to say. I love hearing from readers, and your words really encourage me to keep going!**

 **Haruka**


End file.
